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Chapter 11

"Life is what happens to us while we are making other plans."
Allen Saunders

oOoOoOo

October 13th, T.A. 2941

The Lonely Mountain loomed above them when the sun rose, and the first rays to reach the valley warmed the last of their journey towards Erebor. The city's gates had been brought down by Smaug nearly two hundred years ago, and rebuilt into a fortification under Thorin's rule. Last Kíli had looked at the mountain façade, the wall had been demolished to allow the company's last stand. Now the barricades had been raised again, he noted, spikes and spears jutting from between slabs of stone.

"Someone's been busy," Bofur remarked as they neared the bridge.

"And someone's waiting for us," Dwalin added, nodding towards the parapet.

Kíli squinted against the sun. Indeed, atop the walls of Erebor, movement indicated that sentries had been set, and that their approach hadn't gone unnoticed. Not that he had something to hide or be ashamed of. Kíli's faith in his decision had been renewed when Fíli's eyes had opened again, and he'd not change a thing if given the chance.

"That's a mighty welcome party," Bofur mumbled, swinging his mattock from his shoulder to his hands.

Dáin Ironfoot, king of the Iron Hills and victor in the battle of the Five Armies, was standing at the doors of Erebor, his retinue at his side. As they approached, Kíli saw that his mustache, shaped as a boar's tusks and tipped with iron spikes, was quivering in anger. He was being treated like a dwarfling, Kíli realized, about to be scolded for some silliness he'd done. Annoyance flared in his heart.

"And so the heirs of Durin return to Erebor," Dáin called out. "Or heir, should I say. Where is your brother? Did you leave him in a ditch somewhere, to wait for the help of humans?" He looked at his people and laughed. His escort guffawed along, his right hand Nárin loudest of all.

"Where I left my brother, your king," Kíli stressed, "Is none of your business."

Dáin sobered. "Fíli is indeed my king by right of blood," he agreed amiably, "Which is why I believe it is folly to entrust another folk with his life. Come, Kíli!" he opened his arms. "Let us not quarrel on the doorstep. Allow me to send my people to find him and bring him back amongst his kin."

"Never!" Kíli grit his teeth, his hand clenched on the grip of his bow. He saw Nárin and his henchmen reach for their weapons as well.

"Now, now. No need for bloodshed amongst us." Dáin gestured to his men to stand down. "You are young, Kíli, and brash. If you won't listen to me, perhaps you'll heed the counsel of your own people."

He stood aside, motioning for someone to come forth. Kíli's heart fell when he recognized the dwarf who stood beside Dáin.

"Brother, no!" Dwalin lamented behind him.

"Welcome home, lads," Balin said. He seemed at ease, and glad to see them again.

Dáin clapped his hands together. "See, Kíli? The wisest of your company have heard the truth in my words. Balin will attest that my intentions are honorable, and my allegiance to the throne of Durin unwavering."

"Lads," Balin said, his thumbs hooked into his belt, "Listen to me carefully now. I think Fíli is in a very dangerous position now, very dangerous indeed." He looked Kíli in the eye and continued. "You would do well to think long and hard before you answer this question." There was an awkward pause before he asked, "Where is he?"

"Don't tell him, Kíli!" Bofur exclaimed just as Dwalin shook his head. "Betrayal, from my own kin…"

"There is no betrayal here, gentlemen." Dáin interrupted them. "Your friend Balin has a sincere interest in our king's wellbeing, as do I." He lay a hand on the elderly dwarf's shoulder. They shared a conspiratory glance before he turned to Kíli again. His face showed none of its previous cordiality. "Now for the last time, where did you take Fíli?"

oOoOoOo

"I didn't know there was a prison here," Bofur said from his cell, his words echoing endlessly in the vast chasm beneath them. From his own alcove, Kíli could see him strewn out on his cot with his hat as a pillow. Somewhere above them, Dwalin was bashing against the bars of his cage, grumbling imprecations in Khuzdul.

"There are prisons everywhere," Kíli complained bitterly. His own incarceration had started out more like Dwalin's, but he'd given up long before his friend, mostly due to the suspicion that dwarven cells were no less safe than elven ones.

"We have to escape." Bofur sat on his bed. "We promised Brea we'd…"

"Shhh!" Kíli hissed, darting glances to the stone-hewn staircase that led towards the exit. "They may be listening."

He was thinking specifically of Nárin, who'd taken a particular pleasure in shoving him into the cell. "A room fit for our guests," he'd smirked. "My men will bring you food and drink… I hope they won't forget."

Kíli'd had no choice but to watch his retreating back, furious but utterly helpless. They'd been disarmed in the very first seconds of the fight, overcome by their opponents' numbers. Before he could notch an arrow they'd been surrounded, Dáin's men interposing themselves between Kíli and their king. He'd not even been able to put a shaft into the bastard's eye before he went down.

In the cell above them, Dwalin had finally given up on breaking the door. Kíli heard the cot creak under his weight.

"You're right, Bofur. We'll escape." He walked up to the iron bars and shook them, examined the lock. As expected, it was of ancient dwarven facture, and thus unbreakable. He swore. "If we don't, Dáin will leave us here to rot."

"You should've thought of that before you told him to lick a Balrog's backside," came a familiar voice from the top of the stairs.

Kíli flung himself against the door and pressed his face between the bars. "Balin!" Above them, Dwalin growled.

Balin descended towards Kíli, motioning them to keep quiet. "That was very brave, my lad." He smiled. "And very foolish."

"I wasn't going to betray my brother!" Kíli hissed, retreating. "He would've done the same for me!"

Balin grimaced, unconvinced. "I love you, lad, never doubt that. But I hope your brother would've had the sense to lie and buy you all some time."

"But you said.."

"I said to think carefully." Balin shook his head. "…Not the brightest," Kíli thought he'd heard him mutter before he produced a key from his pocket. "Now let's get you out of here."

"How did you get it?" Kíli marveled as he stepped out of the alcove.

"From Dáin himself, how else?" Balin walked up the stairs to release his brother. They embraced, all enmity forgotten in the light of Balin's loyalty. "Here," he said, thrusting the key at Kíli. "Go release Bofur. We have to talk."

oOoOoOo

They were gathered by the light of the torches, all the eleven that remained of the company.

"It is a grim place to meet," Dori groused, scuttling closer to his brothers.

All around them, the eyes of those who'd died trying to escape the mountain seemed to follow their every move.

"These folk have ears but no tongues," Dwalin growled, defending his brother's choice of place.

"Enough. We have little time, let's not spend it squabbling." Balin grunted as he seated himself onto one of the boulders that blocked the tunnel. He dusted off his hands and cast a circular glance at his companions. "I have managed to get Dáin's trust," he began.

"How?" Nori wondered. "He's been keeping us all busy and under surveillance."

Balin sighed. "I was the old king's advisor. Thrór, may he rest in peace, trusted my counsel, and so did his son and grandson." He wiped the corners of his eyes. "It appears that my willingness to advise Ironfoot is perceived as an unspoken support of his claim to the throne, and a sign that he is more fit to rule than Fíli."

The dwarves jumped to their feet, fists pumping the air in outrage. "Quiet!" Balin hissed, looking at Kíli for support.

"Silence!" Kíli bellowed.

His voice reverberated in the chamber, as if the dead themselves were echoing his call. Grumbling but complying, the company sat back down. Glóin fingered his axe, eyeing the corpses with unease.

"A sign, I was saying. Dáin's interpretation doesn't concern me, what matters is that he trusts me, at least for now. And we must use that to our advantage." He stretched out his arm, inviting Kíli to stand up.

"My brother is dying," Kíli began. He saw the faces around him fall in sadness, and rejoiced in the knowledge that the eldest line of Durin still held their support. "He is fighting for his life with all the strength he has left. We've found a way to stay death, but it will be in vain if he doesn't receive proper help soon." He paused. "There is a way to secure it, and it lies within this mountain."

He had their attention now. The companions were looking at him expectantly, their eyes filled with hope. All he had to do is deliver the rest in a convincing manner, without tainting it with his own prejudice, else his brother was doomed.

"The white gems of Lasgalen, prized property of king Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, are somewhere inside this mountain. The Elvenking is keen on having them returned into his hands." Mutters rose amongst the dwarves and he had to raise his voice as he continued: "He made us the same offer he'd made to Thorin. I would take it up, in exchange for the skill and magic of the elven healers."

"How do we know we can trust him?" Glóin objected. "What if he takes the gems and kills us?"

"We have to take that risk." Kíli exchanged a glance with Bofur, who'd been the first to suggest such a possibility back in Dale.

Nori cleared his throat. "Have you seen the size of Smaug's treasure? How are we supposed to find the gems inside those heaps of gold?"

Kíli realized he hadn't considered that part of the plan. Discouragement weaseled its way into his mind, corrupting it with thoughts of failure. "My friends!" He exclaimed, ignoring Ori who was wriggling on his rock, his hand raised high. "You have followed Thorin through every possible danger, and he led us here. He led us home, and fought for the survival of our people. Our king, our friend – my uncle – is dead, slain by Azog the Defiler."

He stopped to catch his breath and his eyes met Balin's. The elderly dwarf was dabbing at the corners of his eyes with a worn handkerchief.

"I miss him," Kíli said in a broken voice. "I miss my uncle. He helped my mother raise us both, Fíli and I. He's seen us take our first steps, he taught us to fight. Throughout his life he protected us and strived to provide a better future for his kin." He wiped his nose on his sleeve. "I don't want to miss by brother too. Will you help me now? Will you follow me into the dragon's lair, and help me upturn every coin until we find those gems?"

A roar of approval was his reward. Again the company was on its feet, but this time it was cries of determination that filled the room. Only Ori remained seated, his hand extended towards the ceiling.

Kíli narrowed his eyes. "What?" he snapped in irritation. "What is it, Ori?"

The dwarf rose timidly to his feet. "I know where they are," he said. "The white gems of Lasgalen. I know where they're hidden."